What Comes Next?
by cmwilding
Summary: This story takes place about a month after Prentiss returns to the team. Derek has a lot of anger built up and he needs to learn to let go. AU. One-Shot. Slight M/P but can be read as a friendship.


Morgan took the hammer and plummeted it into the wall again. He was almost done tearing down all the nonbearing walls in the place. Even though he didn't know what exactly he was going to do with the place yet, it had felt damn good to take his anger out on something.

In the last house he redid, he had pictured Doyle's face every time he swung the hammer. It had been easy to pour all of his rage into Ian Doyle because he had killed Emily. Now though, things were more complicated than that. Yes, he had blamed himself partially and he hadn't felt anything but grief when he thought of Emily.

Now that she back it changed everything. Doyle was dead and Derek had done everything he could to make sure that Doyle was taken down. He had put all of his energy into that goal. He knew that it wouldn't change that fact that Prentiss was dead but it was the only thing he could do for her. He never could have imagined that it really would bring her back from the grave. Now the feelings that he had buried were right at the surface.

She had been back a month since they ended the Doyle's case and he still hadn't talked to her. Sure, he said hi when they were in the office or discussed a couple of the cases that they had worked on at their desks but never anything more than that. Garcia had said something about having a team night tonight, but he knew that he couldn't go. He couldn't face her yet.

God, he was so pissed. He brought his hammer back up and plunged it into what was left of the wall. He was mad at her for dying. He'd been angry with her since before he found her in that warehouse yet he hadn't really felt it until now. It came crashing over him so hard he didn't know what to do except to keep slamming the hammer into the cracked wood.

She had lied to him and to the rest of the team. She had needed their help and instead of trusting them she had gone on a suicide mission under the pretense of protecting them. He shook his head. He knew that this was only partially the reason he was so angry, why he couldn't let go of the grudge.

He couldn't even think of about Emily being with Doyle all those years ago. She had lived with him, shared things with him, and hell she had even slept with him. All for a damn profile. It went deeper than that for her though; he had seen her face as she watched Doyle die. A part of Emily had truly loved Ian Doyle and that made Derek sick.

A knock on the front door took Derek out of his dark thoughts. He put down the hammer and brushed some of the dust from his shirt and the front of his pants. He swung open the door and to say he was shocked at who stood before him would have been an understatement.

"Uh, hi," Emily said, taking a step foreword. "I hope you don't mind but you weren't at your apartment so I asked Garcia where your newest house was located."

"No, its fine," Derek said, moving aside so she could come in. She was dressed up and not in a pants suit. She had lost weight while she was away and even though she looked beautiful in a tight, blue dress he couldn't help but think she looked fragile. His palms started to sweat as she made her way inside. He wasn't ready for this conversation and he didn't think he ever would be.

"I'm really sorry for just barging in," she continued. "I just… I just wanted to ask if you were going to come out with us tonight."

Derek shrugged. "You couldn't have just called?"

He saw her flinch at his tone but he couldn't help himself. He really didn't want to do this right now.

"Look, Derek," Emily said. "I know this hasn't been easy but I missed you guys. I know sorry will never be enough but how are we supposed to move on if we never talk?"

"You're damn right sorry isn't enough," Derek practically yelled. "I buried you, Emily. I carried your goddamn coffin. You think you missed us? That you missed me? Well I wasn't the one who was dead for six months. I wasn't the one who lied."

Emily wasn't put off by his yelling. In fact, she almost had a smile on her face as she came closer and put a hand on his arm.

"Keep going, Derek," she encouraged.

He took a step away from her, "I don't even know who you are anymore, Emily. I thought that over these past five years we had built a friendship. I told you things that I've never told anyone and I guess I was crazy to think that you would share your secrets, too. Why the hell didn't you tell me what was going on when I asked?"

Emily didn't try to get any closer. She seemed to sense his need for space. "I couldn't," she said simply and paused. "I know you might never understand that but I couldn't tell you. I knew that Doyle would go after you guys. He knew your routines and he wasn't above killing you, or Garcia, or even Henry or Jack if it meant hurting me. He was on a warpath and I didn't want to get any of you to get involved."

Derek cut her off, "Didn't want to get us involved? What makes you think that it was your call? If it was me who had a sociopath after me wouldn't you want me to tell you? Or would you honestly think that it was okay if I went after the bastard myself without back up."

Emily sighed. "It wouldn't have been the same. I know you don't want to hear this but you've never been in the position I was in. You never had the kind of secrets that I have. I was under oath not to say anything, it was CIA business. I was trained to keep my secrets and I even tried to bring you guys in but my request was denied."

Derek turned around and looked her in the eye. "Look you can blame this all on national security or whatever but you could have said something to me. You knew we were close to piecing everything together. You could have stayed. Or were you just too damn ashamed of your past with that monster? Is that it? You didn't want us to know that you whored yourself out for a profile?"

He saw Emily blush. In the past five years he had not once seen such a rush of red take over her face.

"That's not fair Derek," she tried to reason. "The world isn't black and white and back then I lived my life in that grey area."

"You know what's not fair? That I went through hell these past months and was finally coming to terms with everything when you came back. I had mourned my partner, my friend, and the women that I respected. Now though… Now I don't know what to think of you. You certainly aren't the Emily you've pretended to be the past five years."

She came closer again and he took another step back. "What are you trying to say?" She asked. "You seriously think that the entire time I've been your friend I've been putting on an act? God, Derek, you think that little of me? Yes, it's true that I'm not proud of my past but if I seriously thought that the right decision was telling you guys everything about Doyle than I would have. The truth is I was scared. I was terrified that he was going to kill one of you and it would be my fault. What are you really saying anyway? That you wish I were still dead? Why? So you could just forget about me?"

Derek stepped even further away. "I don't know what to think anymore."

He saw the unshed tears in her eyes but did nothing to stop her as abruptly turned around and left the room. He expected her to slam the door but only heard the quiet click of the doorknob. He knew she was gone and he should stop her and tell her that of course he was happy she wasn't dead. He couldn't though; he couldn't bring himself to chase after her again.

* * *

He had cleaned up the house a little before he went home to take a shower. He felt better getting everything off of his chest but he felt awful for the things that he said now that he had calmed down. He knew that Emily coming back was a miracle, one that he had prayed for. He would clear things up. It was sill early, maybe he'd join the team after all.

He was just pulling his shirt over his head when he heard his phone start ringing. He flipped it open, "Morgan."

"Derek Morgan what the hell did you do to Emily?" Garcia's voice was an octave above normal.

He felt guilt gnawing at his stomach, "What do you mean? Isn't she out with you guys?"

"No she called and cancelled. She promised to come out tonight and even called to say she was swinging by your place to try and convince you to come. She was going to offer to drive you so you could get as hammered as you wanted. And then a half hour later she calls me, obviously upset, saying she changed her mind and didn't think she felt up to coming tonight. Now what did you do to her?" She asked again.

"Baby girl," he tried to calm her down but she cut him off.

"Don't you dare baby girl me right now!" She yelled. "Now call Emily and convince her to come out or I swear to god you'll regret it."

She hung up the phone with a snap and he knew he didn't have a choice. Even if she hadn't called him he would have talked to Emily anyway. He couldn't leave things the way they were.

He tried calling her phone a couple of times but it just rang and rang before eventually going to voicemail. Derek sighed and grabbed his keys off of the counter. He would just head to her place if she wasn't going to pick up his calls.

Her car was nowhere in sight when he pulled up to her place. He parked and went to go knock just in case. After waiting five minutes he called her cell again.

"Emily Prentiss," she answered on the third ring. He could tell that she had been drinking though, the two words had slurred together.

"Hey where are you?" He asked.

"Don't know why you care buuuuut I'm at Marty's," she said. Derek knew exactly where that was, they had gone to that bar a few times in the past but he hadn't been able bring himself to go back there after she had died.

"I'll be there soon," Derek told her. "Don't leave."

"Alrighty," she said, hanging up the phone.

She didn't live far from the bar so it didn't take him long to get there. He took a couple of deep breaths. He really needed to not screw this up.

The bar was crowded but she was easy to spot, sitting at one of the side tables. She looked up and caught his eye. She looked back down at her drink as he approached her.

"Sit down," she said, hand waving the nearest chair. He pulled it up and sat directly across from her.

"I'm so sorry, Em," he tried. "I didn't mean what I said."

She looked at him skeptically. "You don't need to lie to make me feel better. It's better now that it's out in the open. I've been waiting for you to start yelling for weeks."

Derek reached out for her hand but she pulled it down to her lap. "

"Em," he said. "Come on. You can't really believe that I would want you dead. You coming back is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. Sometimes I'm afraid it's all just a dream and I'll wake up and you'll be gone."

She didn't look ready to forgive him yet and he noticed that she actually looked a little green.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Never better," she replied. "I'm paying my tab and going home. We can talk about this later."

She hopped off of her chair and stumbled. She steadied herself and made her way over to the bar. If she thought he would let her drive home like this she was crazy.

She tried to just walk right past him but he pulled her arm. "I'm giving you a ride home. We don't have to talk but you can't drive."

"Fine," she muttered. "But we are leaving _now_."

He nodded and helped her over to the car. She had a pinched look on her face like she was actually in pain.

They had only made it a couple of blocks before Prentiss yelled, "Pull over!"

He did as he was told and she swung the door open just in time for her puke all over the sidewalk. Derek had seen her drunk a few times. He had seen her in a much worse state than this but he had never seen her throw up from over indulging in alcohol.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asked as he made his way around to her side of the car. She was still dry heaving so he pulled her hair back for her. That's when he noticed the tears.

"What's wrong?" He demanded. He knew that throwing up wasn't fun but Emily didn't cry. He had never seen her cry, not when she was beaten by Cyrus, hit by a truck, or even when she saw her old teammate with a bullet in her head. No, Emily Prentiss wasn't a crier.

"It hurts," she chocked out. She coughed a few more times before she leaned back against his car.

"What hurts?" He asked. He was starting to get really worried. What if there was something more serious wrong than just having a few too many?

"Nothing," she whispered. "I'm fine. Let's go."

He knew she wasn't fine but helped her back into the car anyway. He got in and drove back to her apartment.

"Tell me what's the matter, Emily," he said, seriously. "I'm not letting you out until you tell me what hurts."

Emily glared out the window and refused to even look at him. "Why do you care anyway? You made it perfectly clear before that your life was better without me in it. I do believe that you don't want me dead but I also think you want me gone and out of the BAU."

Derek reached out and took her hand. "I said a lot of things I didn't mean before, Princess. I'm hurt. When you died you left me with a gaping hole and I spent months trying to fill it. I blamed myself and I blamed Doyle and it wasn't until you came back that I could blame you. I know I said a lot of terrible things before and I didn't mean most of them. I want you here. Hell, I need you here just to remind me that you are aren't dead."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Emily spoke. "I'm not supposed to drink anymore. The doctor said no coffee either and I usually find that rule harder to follow than the no alcohol one but tonight I really needed something to take the edge off."

"Why can't you drink?" Derek asked.

"I have an ulcer. I guess stress can do that to you."

It was in that moment that Derek realized just how selfish he had been. Yes, he had suffered and he had a lot of grief he had to deal with but he never thought about what that meant for Emily. Being alone in a hospital bed for months and doped up on medication. God, after Doyle she must have been terrified. Then, she spent a few more months alone, in a different country without a friendly face while he had the team and his family to lean on.

"Come on, let's go inside," he said, opening his door.

"Oh Derek, you don't have to do that," she replied. "We're good and we can talk more tomorrow."

"I know I don't have to," he replied. "But you don't have to be alone anymore."

She gave him a small smile and didn't protest again as they made their way inside.


End file.
